


the blithe road

by artsycat



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, Pining, Romance, canonverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-16
Updated: 2018-05-16
Packaged: 2019-05-07 16:50:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14675340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artsycat/pseuds/artsycat
Summary: She knows him in her marrow.





	the blithe road

**Author's Note:**

> For my lovely friend eien-no-tsuki  
> Reviews are appreciated.  
> Tumblr: artcatsy

There are no memories to be recalled. Eren sits as the sun begins to set and his world is large and empty all at once.

Of course, there is a memory. There will always be one.

It starts in the way most of these things do. Unhinged and without doubt. He remembers; soft flesh, and parted lips that leave open kisses on the body. Shaky fingers - he is not as confident as he portrays himself to be - or perhaps it is Mikasa herself, her eyes which do not display anything but want and need, and he cannot help but be overcome.

They whisper in the end of the night. The moon does not hang in the sky and the mist creates fog upon the windows. His back is scratched and his shoulders hold welts that look like moon crescents. She heals them, of course. She drops untouchable kisses on his skin and murmurs beautiful things in his ears. Eren is not sure if this is love - but he thinks that it may as damn well be.

Perhaps it is love. He and Mikasa grow together - untethered by the ropes that once attached them home. Somedays, he will think with guilt, about the rubble that had once been home, about Armin, and about the organization that he vowed to fight for.

But then he looks at her, drinks in the lines that form around the mouth of Mikasa’s face, and the guilt disappears. Laugh lines, he faintly remembers. Wrinkles caused by smiling too much. Eren observes his reflection in the mirror, and along with the stubble that he isn’t too bothered to shave off, he notices the exact same lines around his own mouth.

He does not want to think of this as a better life, but unfortunately, it is. Mikasa knows him in her marrow, and he cannot help but be putty in her hands. Somedays, he thinks that she has him wrapped around her finger. He will go to the market, or walk outside, and everything reminds him of her. He misses her, and nature does not help. He had always associated Mikasa with the forest night - uninhabited, unexplainable - but he realizes his error. She is the warm wind that blows in the summer, and Eren is a helpless dandelion, petals unable but to follow her whim.

Somedays, when they are not busy with planning and theory, they cook. Somedays, it’s meat, and somedays it’s cake. Somedays, it’s just him, staring at her with an ache in his heart that he never knew he could have. She is so much more, he knows, so much more than what she makes herself out to be. So much more than the sum of what she is. Of course, Eren never stood a chance. He wonders when he got this lucky.

In the quiet moments that they share, he almost thinks that this could be the life he wants to live. Him and Mikasa, bounded by nothing but each other. It is not the life they would live if they were by the ocean, but it would be so much better than that.

It must be love, he thinks. It can only be love.

Even Kruger’s memories, as tempting as they are, cannot stray him away from her. She comes and greets him, and she smells like flour, and honey and roses, and like home. Her hands are softer than what they used to be, and the scars on them begin to fade.

“Kiss me.” He says, breathing in her scent. She laughs charmingly and it’s something Eren wants to hear forever. She takes both sides of his face and presses her lips to his forehead, sweet and sound. She runs his fingers through his hair.

“It’s too long. It’ll get caught in something - maybe you should cut it?” She teases, and he blinks and laughs, a flush high upon his cheeks. Memories, of course, still live on between them. He wants them more and more.

When he realizes that time is coming near, and they have nothing but a few more short days left, he decides to leave for the day. His hands and arms ache - but for a different reason. The paper he brought with him threatens to fly away and he grips onto them tightly as he begins to pull flowers. He knows that the colours and the shapes must mean something, and he wishes he knew. For now, he picks each one that reminds him of her, and wraps them in the crinkled and dirt-matted paper, tying them with string.

She is asleep when he gets back. He doesn’t wake her, but her eyes open anyways. She looks at the flowers in his hands and accepts them without a word. She pulls one out of it though - a dandelion - and gives it to him.

Perhaps, it had always been love.


End file.
